


Binge

by Nyssa



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa/pseuds/Nyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys hole up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Binge

"Hutch," Starsky said on Sunday evening, "I don't think this is working out."

Hutch turned his head, a look of alarm replacing the soft tenderness, blazing lust, and blissful satiation that had been crossing his face in succession for the past forty-eight hours. "What -- what are you talking about?"

Starsky wiggled his toes luxuriously to get the kinks out of them. They were cramped from curling so much. "Well, it's just not turning out the way I expected. I think we've made a big mistake."

Hutch moved slightly away from him and propped himself on one elbow. "Buddy," he began in a faltering voice, "I don't understand." His expression was almost panicked now. "I thought -- I thought you were happy. I thought _we_ were happy."

Starsky blinked in surprise. "I am happy, dummy. I'm completely fuckin' drained. I've been sucked, fucked, jacked off and whacked off till I can't see straight. And so've you. So don't tell me we ain't happy."

Hutch collapsed back onto his pillow. "Thank God," he sighed. "Because if this little marathon didn't satisfy you, I was gonna give up. I'm only human, you know."

"Babe, you're missing the point. We're _too_ happy."

Hutch grunted disbelievingly. "No such thing."

"Says you. Tell the truth -- you didn't think things would turn out this way when we planned this weekend, did ya?"

"Starsk, I thought the whole thing was ridiculous from the start. If you remember, I did tell you that."

Starsky waved a hand impatiently. "Yeah, yeah. But you went along with it."

"Of course I went along with it. Forty-eight hours in bed with you? After working four weekends in a row? Why wouldn't I go along with it?"

"But the whole point was to take the edge off. You know, bank the flames a little. Do you feel banked, Hutch?"

Hutch closed his eyes. "I feel very, very good, and very, very tired."

Starsky rolled onto his back and folded his arms behind his head. "That's just temporary. Tomorrow we'll be all over each other again. Pattin' each other's bellies, touchin' each other's hair, sittin' practically on top of each other in Dobey's office..."

Hutch smiled dreamily. "Pinching each other's butts, holding hands in the squad room..."

"See, I thought this would help. I thought if we got completely, y'know, _sated_ with each other, it would kinda calm things down. I thought it'd be like eating two dozen doughnuts at a sitting, and then just the thought of a doughnut would make you barf. Or like the guy in that movie who spends a whole weekend drunk off his ass, and then by Monday he's so sick of it he decides he's never gonna take another drink."

Hutch nodded thoughtfully. "But we're not barfing, and we're not sick of it."

"Right. I mean, I still wanna take a bite outta you. A _lotta_ bites. And pour wine all over you and lick it up."

"Me too, babe," Hutch said softly. He took Starsky's hand and laced their fingers together.

Starsky raised their entwined hands and kissed Hutch's knuckles. "I guess it was a dumb idea. But you know, some of the guys were starting to talk, and I just wanted to try and shut 'em up. Show those assholes we could keep our hands off each other like other partners do. That we don't have to be touching all the time."

"Except we do."

"Yeah." Starsky sighed. "Looks like it."

"Ah, Starsk, look at it this way, it was just a failed experiment. Happens to scientists all the time. But -- " he slid closer to Starsky and kissed his shoulder " -- they don't give up. They get right back in there and try, try again."

"Huh," Starsky said. "That's true." He played idly with Hutch's hair.

"So maybe next weekend -- "

"We gotta work next weekend."

"Damn. Well, the weekend after that -- "

"I thought you thought this was ridiculous."

"Well -- "

"You believe in moderation in all things, don't you?"

"Well -- as long as we're not doing it _all_ the time -- "

"Just every weekend we have off."

"Yeah." Hutch sounded relieved. "That's pretty moderate."

Starsky cleared his throat. "And maybe, you know, a few times during the week."

"Yeah. A few."

"Sooner or later, we're bound to get sick of it."

"Sure we will."

"We won't even be able to look at each other without going green around the gills."

"And that'll make our lives a lot easier."

Starsky's eyes softened. "We're damn lucky, you know that?"

Hutch's eyebrows lifted.

"I mean, we understand each other so well. We have such a good, uh -- "

"Rapport."

"See? That's what I mean. You know what I'm thinking, and I know what you're thinking."

Hutch glanced at the bedside clock. "I'm thinking we have two hours left in the weekend."

Starsky's eyes widened. "You said you were very, very tired."

Hutch shrugged. "How much energy do I need to lie here while you lick wine off my body?"

Starsky was out of bed before Hutch finished the sentence. "Mind if we use Coors instead?"


End file.
